To Speak or Not to Speak
by 1arigato
Summary: Shaun's own family tree is an odd one, especially considering that most of his ancestor's life experiences were out-of-this-world. Literally.


To Speak or Not to Speak

My first Assassin's Creed x Chronicles of Narnia fic. :)

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No matter how oblivious or stupid Shaun may sarcastically make Desmond out to be, the Miles had a sharp eye for observation.

When he ran away from the Farm, fleeing to the city and becoming a bartender, he sensed he was being followed. Desmond couldn't explain it; he'd be strolling down the street, heading home after his shift, and one person would stand out to him. Ask anyone else, and they'd see nothing out of place with said individual, but Desmond _saw_. The clothes felt wrong, the person's presence felt wrong, everything about the individual just rubbed Desmond the wrong way, so ever since he escaped the Farm, Desmond learned not only how to run, but hide. He changed names, added different accents every time he applied for a job—Brooklyn, Western, even British—and whenever he would pass by someone in the mall, or at subway stops, he'd notice the person out of place before the person could notice him. Then he'd run away again, work for a different bar, and shake off whoever stalked him for a while. Later, he'd discover his pursuers were fellow assassins, keeping a protective eye on William Miles's son, but the one week Desmond got _really_ good, having sensed a pattern in their methods, Abstergo found him instead, a much less hospitable group and much more inclined to use him until he went insane.

Back to the topic, though, Desmond took in things. So when he questioned Rebecca about Shaun's attitude towards Templars, she said he disliked them like anyone—that is, fellow assassins and such—did. Desmond kept quiet about what he saw at that. Shaun disliked the Templars, yes, but there was _more_. The ex-bartender read the Englishman whenever the Templars came up in conversation; a slight furrow of the brows, fingers would twitch in their rapid typing, but no one noticed. No one except Desmond. "Shaun," he approached the historian one day, "do you feel disappointed in the Templars?" Fingers stilled in typing, and eyes peered over the rim of his glasses. "Why would you say that?" No insult, meaning Desmond touched a subject little, if any, ever brought up. Desmond shrugged, partly to express his lack of solid facts to back his guess up, partly because he felt slightly uncomfortable and suddenly unconfident. "I got a feeling that…." Shaun watched expectantly, waiting for the rest of the sentence, and Desmond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Never mind." Desmond had a sharp eye, yes, but he also knew when not to bring up his observations.

XxXx

The first few times Shaun experienced the Animus, he swore he wouldn't go back in. An ancestor of his, a female named Susan Pevensie, once lived with three other siblings, headstrong Peter, innovative Edmund, and bright little Lucy. The war changed the family, though, perhaps forever. At first, Edmund was sent to a private school, one Susan and the rest would later discovered only housed arrogant rich children whom pushed around her little brother because he hailed from a family not so rich, and sweet Edmund came back harsh and blunt, scaring away Lucy and defying Peter and Susan's logic and words. The two eldest siblings had to grow firm, though they'd soon realise they had grown _too_ firm, and Lucy sought everyone else's attention, causing grief and annoyance sometimes due to her clinginess. There was much lashing out, which only increased after Mr. Pevensie's joining the military, and the family seemed to fall apart as time went on. Mrs. Pevensie did her best, but handling four children who once had been the best of friends now couldn't get along was tiring, to say the least.

After being sent away to Proffessor Kirk's over the summer, that all changed. At first, the four got along mildly, having found a common enemy in the head housekeeper whose stiff attitude restricted the children in freedom around the house. Then, Lucy popped up during a game of hide-and-seek, and they sunk back to their bitter selves. A world in a wardrobe? This child is mad! Edmund made things worse after lying and making fun of Lucy in the process, and then Susan and Peter went in themselves. Shaun tagged along as the siblings and Mr. Beaver took shelter in the dam, breathing in the delicious smell of food like Susan did, feeling the sudden jolt of joy as if having heard the sweetest of melodies or tasting the best of delicacies when the beavers spoke the name Aslan, whose name alone brought a warmth to one's heart. Soon enough, Edmund's betrayal was discovered, and the group had to flee to the Narnian base as fast as they could, before the White Witch and her wolves caught them. Meeting Father Christmas, second-handed as it was, had been an uplifting experience for Shaun, but at the first blast of cold and fear came when Peter drove his sword into the ice over the river to escape the wolverines, Shaun jolted awake, having instinctively forced himself out of the Animus.

Shaun didn't talk about his experience, and Rebecca didn't ask, but when the Englishman went to bed and tried to sleep, he thought about the beavers, and Father Christmas, and the sudden realisation everything he saw through his ancestor's blood actually took place. This could be explained through curiosity, or excitement, or fear, and maybe it was a mix of all three, but Shaun knew he needed to see through Susan Pevensie's life. So he went back in. This time, Shaun found himself in the Narnian base, crowded with everything from panthers to griffins to centaurs. Susan laid her eyes on a familiar figure on a hill with a lion, and Edmund turned, looked her way from his talk with the big lion, and offered a small, shy smile Susan last saw on her baby brother before he attended the private school. The first thing Susan felt was hope and joy. The first thing Shaun felt was fear. The big cat—the lion—with Edmund was huge. Well, not drastically in size, but his presence engulfed the entire campsite, and his power could be felt resonating and bouncing off everywhere—through the air, off the rocks, into the grass—as well as, surprisingly, love. Fear of separation from the lion coursed through Shaun, and fear of what the powerful lion could do as well, so when Shaun tried looking at the lion, as Susan appeared capable of doing, the Englishman mentally blocked it out, ignoring its face if he could. He saw only the grandness of the body and a flash of amber eyes, but that didn't take away from how loving, powerful, and scary the lion was.

"You brother has been speaking with Aslan once we rescued Prince Edmund from…the White Witch," a centaur, apparently named Oreius, informed. Susan didn't notice the hesitation in the centaur's sentence, but Shaun knew this Oreius had almost said "death" before realising he was still talking to a child, regardless of her monarch future. Shaun was almost afraid to find out what torture the boy went through, but as the Pevensie siblings were still young, Susan and thus Shaun were spared. For now. It also only made sense the big lion was Aslan, Shaun figured. Who else could it be? Susan thanked Oreius for helping save her younger brother, and the girls reunited with Edmund, smiling teary-eyed and hugging each other like they couldn't let go. Edmund was quiet the entire time, his apologies for his past behaviour spoken through his eyes. Peter approached this way, and Edmund turned to give his apology, but the eldest simply walked past him, heading towards training. Susan would later berate Peter in his cold behaviour, only to discover Peter felt guilty for his brother's experience, and the two brothers would soon mend bonds and become inseparable again like they were when they were younger, but the arrival of the White Witch caught Shaun's attention.

She was stunning. Shaun had never laid eyes on anyone more beautiful, and he could see how young Edmund fell into her trap of sweet words and empty promises, but the witch also had a cold aura, seeking only power for herself. Shaun had seen Templars bearing similar presence, but none had seemed so untouchable like the White Witch was now. Susan's—and Shaun's—blood went cold when the witch declared Edmund's life belonged to her, meaning she had the right to kill the boy. Aslan and Jadis, the lion and the witch, disappeared into a tent for negotiations, and later on that night, Susan and Lucy would watch helplessly as Aslan was tortured, shaved, and beaten before roped to a stone table and killed. Shaun gasped awake once more, fingers suddenly cold and his heart racing, and Rebecca opened her mouth to say they didn't have to test the Animus on Shaun, she could always figure out how to work it when someone else came along, but they both knew that was highly unlikely, and Shaun shut her down. "No," he had said, "it's alright, I'm going back in."

Shaun came back into the heat of battle. Susan was firing arrows as best as she could, and Shaun could see the future of an expert, all-ace archer ahead of her, but for now, the battle at Beruna was taking place. A thunderous roar rang out, signalling Jadis's death to Aslan, and Susan hurried to the origin of the sound, only to find Edmund, quickly dying from a stab from the witch's wand. Lucy saved the day with her cordial, and Peter finally calmed down from attacking the White Witch in fervour as retaliation of witnessing his brother fall at her hands. Events went milder after that; the dead got counted, the injured healed with some help from Lucy, and everything and everyone began to recover. Shaun was eased out of the memory this time, not jerked awake as his instincts had done, and Rebecca informed him they only had to test the Animus a little more before she got the hang of working it.

Susan led him through fifteen years of ruling as the Gentle Queen of Narnia. Granted, Shaun experienced only pieces of the fifteen-year reign, but he got enough to get the picture that the Pevensie siblings were like no other set of monarchs—or leaders for that matter—and had truly matured into true rulers. As his ancestor was female, Shaun got to know and understand the pain those left behind experienced when the men of the household left for battle. Because his ancestor was also a monarch, however, he had been to the battlefield itself. Gentle Queen Susan of the Southern Sun, wielder of the horn, had also come to be known as Her Highness the Master Markswoman; characteristically entering battle with the elegant bow and quiver of arrows Father Christmas gave her, not a target would be spared when she set her eyes on it, but when archers weren't needed or when Susan had time to breath, Shaun watched the soldiers on ground fight.

They were called knights.

Whoever visualised the perfect knight as a human brilliant in shining armour needed to be sorely corrected, at least in Shaun's opinion. Armour wasn't particularly necessary with the fast and fierce Narnians ranging from the horses, canines, and big cats, and those crafty or immensely strong such as the mice, reptiles, and gryphons. They were never lesser of a knight even though they didn't "shine" like white knights, and Shaun could see the resolution in their eyes burning with a silent light or a burning flame every time he looked. Every. Time. King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table would have unsheathed their swords and kneeled as was the sign of great respect and honour of approaching a deeply respectable individual if they ever laid eyes the Narnian knights, and Shaun could only briefly think about the Templars back at his time and realm and wonder if world peace would have been achieved had the knights of Earth been anything like the knights of the kingdom of Narnia. His heart wilted with sorrow a little when he realised the cruel and selfish nature of a majority of humanity, and later—when he was out of the Animus and going over Templar movements in the area—Shaun could feel himself sag a bit at the photographs or frozen shots of street cameras they've managed to hack when he saw the empty eyes of the Templars filled only with self-ambition, or when he saw the Templars kill anything or anyone who caused problems for them, taking lives in such a waste Shaun almost felt like throwing up at how inhumane and not-Narnian these "knights" were. They definitely didn't deserve the title.

That aside, the knights of Narnia's military were led by just as magnificent kings. The eldest, High King Peter, was a natural leader and spokesman who could raise low spirits, and along with his ever-growing strength and intuition, he perfectly embodied the "white knight" figure at the same time surpassing the "King Arthur" character as well. Perhaps the one who came up with the knight in shining armour had something going or had—even though it was higly unlikely—been to Narnia before, because while Peter's companion in battle wasn't exactly a white stallion, the high king rode in on a unicorn. His brother and fellow monarch, King Edmund, likewise hardly parted with his own steed-cum-friend-cum-confidant, the talking horse Philip. While less effective on horseback during his years before he hit his growth spurt, the Just was fearsome on foot, quickly taking up duelling with two swords instead of his brother's preferred sword and shield style, and by the time the monarch was the right height, enemies of Narnia had come to fear and respect the rumoured half-centaur king who could trample any in his path and take down rows of soldiers with the two swords he had for arms, though that was mostly attributed to the Calormen's reputation for exaggeration.

Shaun quickly learned females weren't meant for battle because they were downright scary when he witnessed Queen Lucy fight with knives and when he realised how deadly his great-great-great etc. etc. grandmother could be. If the Creed had been composed entirely of women, Shaun felt the Templars would have been taken down decades ago, though that could be bias on his part since he based his observations off of two females who were forced to quickly grow up, lead a kingdom, and had developed concerning habits along the way. Yes, women were scary. As for Rebecca's seemingly friendly, if annoying, nature, well, Shaun will never forget the day he accidentally spilled tea and short-circuited her computer. Looking back on the Pevensie's success and great leadership, Shaun felt utterly gobsmacked when Aslan willed the siblings back into their childish bodies and closed the connection in the wardrobe when the four walked past the lamppost and stumbled back in the Professor's home, signalling the end of their reign and the end of the Golden Age.

Rebecca said nothing when Shaun spent the following days moping—though he'd later vehemently deny such—at how a fantastic journey could end just like that, but on approximately the twenty-first time testing the Animus, Shaun found himself witnessing a train station rip itself inside out until Susan and her siblings led him out of a dark cave to the white sandy beaches of Narnia. He watched as the remains of Narnia picked itself up and fight with a Miraz-led kingdom of Telmar, a Telmarine prince himself leading the final assault on the enemy. The siblings were harshly tested, though something felt right in their situation even when it seemed everything was falling apart around them. After Susan grabbed Caspian for a kiss and cheekily smiled after, and after Aslan spoke with Peter and Susan, Shaun recognised what the youngest saw. This return to Narnia had been the eldest's final challenge; Peter accepted his days as High King in Cair Paravel would never return, and that he'd have to learn to be king elsewhere—home—while Susan shoved aside fantasies of sharing a romance with Caspian when her family needed her support and eventually recognising that while she was welcome to pursue love, certain priorities came first—especially fighting a war.

What followed both warmed his heart and hurt his soul. Two more, Eustace and Jill, had come to be Friends of the Lion as well, but while the group grew bigger, Susan seemed to be drifting. Her time in America only furthered the rift between her and her siblings and cousins she claimed were chasing childhood stories, and without Peter's guiding words or her younger siblings' gentle advice, Shaun could only watch as Susan concerned herself with outer appearances and—yet again and this time more fiercely—_boys_. Desmond, Rebecca, and Lucy may find his bias against America quite unfounded, but after witnessing his ancestor lose herself to empty things because of her physical distance from home, Shaun felt he had a valid enough excuse. He _was_ a loyal Brit, though, so _maybe_ his dislike for anything not British was a _little_ extreme. What's more, the only thing that put Susan back on track was not the epiphany and sudden remembrance of times in Narnia Shaun expected would right his ancestor, but the death of all three of her siblings, her cousin and his friend Jill, and the two elders Professor Kirke and Aunt Polly. It was a sad way for the Gentle Queen to wake up and return, but by then, none of her fellow Narnian friends were there to witness it, and Shaun wept alongside his great-great etc. etc. grandma and queen at the funeral as the last of their peaceful faces were closed away in coffins and lowered to the Earth. A warm breeze had gently gone through everyone, and for the first time in too long, the Queen recognised Aslan's presence and bowed her head in prayer.

The week of testing the Animus where Shaun stood by Susan through her emotional and spiritual recovery found the historian oddly silent and retorting less to Rebecca's jokingly mocking words. Finally, on the last day of testing the Animus, Shaun watched an eighty-something-year old Susan dying comfortably in her bed, her children and grandchildren respectfully outside the room as per her request. The old woman weakly reached for the Bible on her bedside table when a nose stopped her, and amber eyes gazed back. It was the first time Shaun could look at Aslan in the face without trying to block the entire image out due to feeling overwhelmed at the lion's presence, and he felt himself fall quiet both mentally and physically at the long-overdue meeting between the one true king do Narnia and his "child," as he claimed, Susan.

"Am I dreaming?" Susan first asked. Aslan was supposed to exist only as a lion in Narnia, but there were certain things not written on stone when it came to Aslan. The lion pushed her frail hand back on the bed, but he initiated no farther contact, almost as if in exchange for all the times Susan had denied him. "Does this feel like a dream, young one?" his low voice rumbled through his chest and unto the bedsheets, off of the walls, vibrating everywhere like the lion's presence before humming into the air and disappearing after a while. A comfortable silence fell, and then Susan spoke. "I am sorry," she murmured. Tears had began falling out the corner of her eyes, and Aslan finally touched her, releasing a gentle, warm breath on her face that was as delicious and comforting as a summer breeze before he leaned and licked the tears off her cheeks, though more just replaced them. "You cry," he stated. "Because I am happy and sad, Aslan," Susan responded. "Sad I denied you for this long; happy you still love me after what I've done," she explained, before continuing. "Please don't take me to your country. I don't want to face my siblings."

He licked her face again. "They understand what you've done and still love and accept you," he said. Susan's eyes fluttered closed as the last of her essence left her body. "I don't deserve it." Someone chuckled. _"Then what would you think of me?" _Shaun's eyes shot open, startled at what he had experienced. That had been Edmund's voice who spoke, and in the background, Shaun was positive he heard Lucy's laughter and Peter's and Eustace's playful sighs, Aunt Polly and Jill's joking and the Professor's exasperated responses, and thousands others—centaurs, dryads, beasts—friends of new and old, from Here and There, who waited for their Queen to finally come home. Shaun didn't see anything since Susan had closed her eyes, but he could guess that he had experienced a bit of Heaven before the last of Susan'a physical memories imprinted in his genes ended.

"Shaun," Desmond's question arose, "do you feel disappointed in the Templars?"

Templars are only a small bit of what to be disappointed of, Desmond. People of the same country can get along and love each other like family enough to die for one another if they only tried; generals and politicians can end wars and only pursue battles that defended values of love, peace, and unity; and humans can live _with_ nature if they only stopped, listened, and learned. Knights are but a part of the big family that was Aslan's children, and it sorrows me so that his children have been misbehaving and denying Aslan so much and so often some of us aren't recognisable anymore. I recognise world peace isn't achievable at this point without direct help of the Lion himself, so I'm not particularly disappointed in the Templars so much as _us_. We could do so much more, and I fear the day us Assassins lose ourselves and become the very people we swore to defeat.

"Why would you say that?"

"I got a feeling that…." It's odd, because somehow Desmond's not trailing off because he can't find the words to say, but because he won't say them. "I don't know." Yes you do. "Never mind." Come back here.

Shaun doesn't do anything to stop the ex-bartender as the latter moves to the training room to keep his skills and body in shape. Shaun wants to talk about what he knows, wants so desperately to unleash the rant he had been holding in for this long, but something keeps the tidal wave from leaving his lips. _Not yet,_ it seems to say. _Not now. _He realises, Shaun does, that while everyone's destinies unravel before them, his destiny is to watch. He followed Susan through the life of a schoolgirl, to the life of a monarch, to the life of a schoolgirl trying to hide her inner monarch, to the life of Aslan's child who went through her own betrayal before returning to his paws. He still watches, the unfocused future of Lucy's Shaun can't see clearly, the straight path Rebecca resolutely follows without knowing it, and Desmond's tree, with all its branches and alternate routes that eventually connect back to its roots, to his ancestry. Shaun doesn't speak of what he knows, not yet and not now, because he still has to keep silent, to watch. Even if the world has to end before Shaun can speak, he will wait. He will wait for the day it will be his deceased sister's laugh he'll hear, his parents' playful sighs, Lucy and Rebecca's joking, and Desmond's exasperated responses before he can finally _finally_ lay down and join his ancestor and her ring of friends and share stories and smiles and not worry if Desmond isn't going to wake up from the Animus this time or if humanity is doomed to a cycle of selfishness and conflict that makes Shaun yearn for a Narnia not there.

And every time he remembers this and thinks of this, something licks away his invisible tears and comforts him. _It is because I am happy and sad, Aslan,_ he makes sure to reassure. _Sad we children have denied you for this long; happy there will be an end to all of this._

Somewhere further up, further in, a queen smiles at her descendent's thoughts. A great lion purrs in agreement alongside her.

—

**A/N: The ending was a little rushed because I was running out of time—and sleep—and I wished to post this as soon as possible ;) If you see any grammar mistakes, please give me a heads up, and I will gladly fix them when I can. I also know little to nothing of Assassin's Creed except some information I've read off of its wikipedia, but I liked the idea of one of the main characters having Susan as an ancestor, and I figured Shaun Hastings was the best choice. Apologies if anything in my fic seems off in fact accuracy! This was also originally going to focus on knights, but in the end it sort of encompassed everything (maybe; give me your opinion ;^^ ) Thank you for reading! **


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